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Saturday, June 24, 2017


Melchor F. Cichon
February 22, 1994
Revised: June 24, 2017

I told you not to come home.
Your adversary, your friends
And even your family members
Had advised you not to come home,
Because the clouds were black
And lightning might strike you dead.
But you came home
And kissed the tarmac
That now bears your name.
I told you not to come home
Because the wound in your heart
And those whose blood had fertilized
The decaying soil of our field
Had not healed yet. But
You saw a different angle.
You chose "to die in a country that is dead,
Than to live in a country that is alive."
I cannot mourn for you
But to the man who commanded the finger
To pull the trigger.

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